The Knight of Saradomin
by The-Wandering-Wanderer
Summary: Mick is a lonely adventurer who is just doing his part to help out, but what he finds out is that helping people is not as easy as it sounds...
1. Pursuit

Changes made to the story:  
- Put the story into chapters rather than leaving it in one big blog - Corrected the names 'Saradomin' and 'Zamarock' (sorry for the mistakes everyone)

Chapter 1 - Pursuit

Mick checked again to make sure that his shield was strapped firmly to his arm. It wouldn't do any good to have it come off his arm during the middle of the battle that was ahead of him. For the past few hours he had been tracking a small group of moss giants that had kidnapped a small group of citizens from the town of Varrock. He had expected their encampment to be somewhere outside of the city but he had been surprised when they had headed for the sewer.

Moss giants were large creatures, standing at just over 12 feet tall and carrying a large wooden club made out of an unkown wood. They could be distinctly identified by their dark green skin – the same colour as moss which was where they got their names from. Usually they were very peaceful creatures and stuck to themselves but lately they had become increasingly more daring and started raiding nearby towns – much to the town's dismay.

The town guards had been powerless to stop the rampage of these awful giants – their iron armour and weapons and years of training had proved to be fruitless: they were entirely at the mercy of the giants. What made matters worse was that the giants had attacked in a large group consisting of at least five of the loathsome beasts. One giant alone would have been a handful for the guards to handle but five proved to be too much for them. Mick clenched his fist in anger as he recalled the countless lives that had been lost during this small raid.

When the giants invaded the town guards made the mistake of thinking that the giants would attempt to abduct the king and had all flocked to the castle – leaving the rest of the town exposed. As a result of this mis-reading of the giant's intentions a large group of citizens had been abducted for some devious purpose that nobody else knew about. The king had ordered that posters be put up all over the town indicating that there would be a generous reward for anybody that could return Varrock's citizens safely and exterminate this new threat.

As an adventurer Mick had been up for the challenge – having just returned to Varrock from the town of Falador where he had been mining ores. His routine had been interrupted by a herald running through the town declaring that Varrock was in need of assistance. The instant that he heard that the town of Varrock was in trouble, Mick had put aside his rune pick and donned his rune armour and scimitar – making sure that he would be prepared for anything.

Mick followed the Moss giants down into the sewers – being careful not to make a sound as he dropped down the ladder. He made sure that he kept at least several metres behind them and ducked behind cover whenever possible. Fortunately for him the Moss giants seemed very focused on getting towards their goal – walking right past zombies, skeletons and ghosts without a second thought. Mick followed their example and ignored the loathsome creatures that surrounded him. Normally he would do his duty to society and dispatch the ugly beasts but he couldn't afford to lose sight of the Moss Giants.

It took the Moss Giants another few hours to reach their encampment – stopping at the very end of the sewers. Here streams of bubbling green liquid flowed in rivers and the ground itself appeared to be sick – being a very pale colour. It seemed as though the very ground around the river was dying just from being around the putrid liquid. Mick was glad that his rune helmet had a visor – it served to block out the horrible stench that the rivers gave off to some degree, but some of the smell still managed to get through.

The smell was far worse than any Mick had ever experienced before. Furthermore, there seemed to be an evil presence in this area. While Mick was following the Moss Giants he noticed that there were pentagrams and other demonic symbols written all over the walls – some which he had never seen before. Some of the symbols he was familiar with – he had seen them when he had been fighting against lesser demons in the karamja volcano and some he had seen down at the wizard's tower.

Now that they had reached the end of the sewers Mick wondered where they would turn to. As far as he could see there was nowhere else that they could move to – now would be the time to spring the attack. He unsheathed his rune scimitar and slowly began to advance towards them – only to watch them suddenly walk east: taking the hostages and disappearing. Mystified, Mick followed them and suddenly stopped when he saw a large opening in the wall. He would have to proceed very carefully from here.

Mick quickly ducked his head around the corner and took in the situation before ducking his head back out again so that the Moss Giants wouldn't see him. The Moss giants had all spread out now and had relaxed. On the eastern side of the room there was a cauldron with a bubbling liquid that looked exactly like the liquid that he had seen in the rivers that he had just passed. He was curious as to what the liquid did but he didn't have time to play around with the lives of the people who were being held hostage.

He was about to charge when he heard somebody running up behind him. Instinctively he turned around and got himself ready to face an attack but was surprised when he found another adventurer in rune armour facing him. Warily he lowered his scimitar and waited for the adventurer to approach him. 


	2. First Strike

Chapter 2 - First Strike

"What is your business here?" asked the stranger, pulling out a rune scimitar that looked exactly identical to Mick's.

"I am here to rescue the hostages from the Moss giants," replied Mick. "They are just around that corner."

"I will help," said the Stranger. He suddenly stopped, realizing that he hadn't introduced himself. "Richard."

"Mick," replied Mick. Now that the introductions were over he turned to face the Moss giants again. "We have the element of surprise on our side. We should be able to take on five of them easily."

"Have you ever fought a Moss giant before?" asked Richard curiously. "Despite their size they are still extremely fast. They aren't normally aggressive fighters but given their recent activities there's no telling how volatile and dangerous they will be." Mick nodded in agreement and tightened his grip on his scimitar.

"Let's go then," said a new voice. Mick and Richard both turned around, stunned. They had been so focused on planning their attack that they hadn't noticed somebody else sneak up behind them.

"Glenn," smiled the stranger, watching smugly as the Mick and Richard sized him up. Glenn was wearing a full set of adamant armour and was also wielding a rune scimitar.

"We were just about to attack the Moss giants," explained Mick. "I'm Mick and this is Richard. If you're willing to join us wait for my signal, if not then wait here and we'll be back shortly." Turning back to the task on hand, Mick suddenly dashed around the corner, tightening his grip on his scimitar so that he wouldn't lose it.

It took a moment for the Moss giants to register the sudden attack, but after that they swiftly picked up their clubs and charged to meet Mick, Richard and Glenn. The three adventurers were out-numbered but they were confident that they could take on five lumbering giants amongst themselves.

Mick headed for the first Giant, running past it and slashing viciously at its leg. The giant howled in pain as rune metal sliced through vulnerable flesh, spurting out a pool of green blood. Mick took a second to register the damage of his first attack before charging back at the giant. This time the giant was ready, swinging its massive club towards Mick. Mick rolled forward and raised his shield, taking the brunt of the impact on his arm. The force that was put behind the blow was staggering. Mick found himself dazed from the shock of the blow and was defenceless against the next blow.

Mick could have sworn to seeing a wicked smile on the Moss giant's face as it slammed it's wooden club into his chest – sending him staggering back. He barely recovered in time to dodge the next attack. He shook his head in disappointment as he launched his next attack. He had under-estimated his opponent: something which he would never do again. Mick stood still and waited for the giant to slam its club into the ground again. Instead of blocking the blow with his shield this time, Mick rolled to the side and felt the ground shake as the large piece of wood thundered into the ground next to him.

Thinking quickly, Mick lashed out with his rune scimitar: cutting with all the strength that he could muster in a vicious strike that cut cleanly through the club: cleaving it in two. The giant howled in rage and threw away the useless club. Smiling with satisfaction, Mick re-doubled his attack efforts: running through the giant's legs and lashing out with his scimitar. His efforts were rewarded with more green blood that splattered all over the ground and on his armour. Now that the giant no longer had its weapon it would be much easier for him to finish it off. As the giant lashed out with its fist – attempting to knock Mick off his feet Mick met the attack with one of his own: slicing off the giant's hand before it came anywhere near his person.

This only seemed to make the giant angrier – causing it to become even more irrational. Blinded by bloodlust the giant suddenly charged towards Mick. Mick slashed at its leg again, but this time the giant ignored the pain and barrelled right into him – continuing to run until it slammed him against the wall. The impact of the blow winded Mick badly – causing him to drop his scimitar. Even with only one hand Now that the giant had Mick in its grip it picked him up and slammed him into the wall again. Mick was ready for it this time and kicked off the wall to come back at the giant again – lashing out with a vicious kick. The kick caught the giant in the chest and forced it to drop Mick to the ground.

Gasping for breath, Mick picked up his scimitar again and attacked again – slicing the giant's stomach open with a horizontal slash. The giant looked at Mick with what could only be shock and he was surprised to find that a red wisp of air suddenly shot out of the moss giant's stomach and disappeared slowly – writing in agony. Mick was puzzled – he hadn't expected anything like that to happen when he killed the moss giant. Since the red wisp had disappeared Mick noticed that the Moss giant had stopped trying to attack him and had finally accepted its fate.

Mick should have been glad that he had been able to take down one of the Moss giants – but all that he felt was regret. Normally he had no hesitations about taking the life of an enemy creature that had tried to take his life but this time was different. It appeared as though the red wisp that had just been expelled from the dying Moss giant's body was what was causing them to suddenly act so aggressively towards everyone.

But Mick's thoughtful mood had removed his combat focus. He had forgotten about the two Moss giants that currently were unoccupied. For the duration of the battle they had merely been standing there, watching Mick, Richard and Glenn fight their companions but now that they had seen one of their own fallen they were eager to avenge their death. An unexpected blow from one of them caught Mick in the chest and sent him flying into the wall – winding him once again.

I've really got to stop getting distracted during the middle of a fight, Mick thought to himself as he took a moment to recover, calculating what would be the best move to make form his current position. Both giants were heading towards him now – there was no way that he would be able to take out both giants at once and yet if he only took out one of the giants, the other one would be sure to finish him off. He gave a momentary glance towards his companions and saw that they still had their hands full fighting the other Moss giants – he would not be able to rely on them for aid.

Thinking quickly Mick suddenly charged the giants, slashing at the closest Moss giant's stomach and jumping back nimbly to avoid being crushed to the ground by a giant club. His attack had been successful and he was rewarded with yet another Moss giant falling to the ground. This one landed on its knees and it looked at Mick with such pleading eyes that he had to look away. The look that the Moss giant had just given him was one of utter confusion as though it did not understand why Mick would ever want to hurt it. Could it be that the Moss giants themselves did not realize that they were being possessed until they died?

Now there was only one Moss giant left for him to kill before he could go to the aid of his companions and end this ugly matter. He turned to face the Moss giant and was surprised to find that the giant had picked up the club of one of his fallen companions and gave Mick a look filled with contempt and malice. Gritting his teeth, Mick advanced towards the giant, raising his shield and rolling to the side as one of the clubs came crashing down. He was successful in dodging the first club, but the second club caught him in the side and sent him sprawling backwards.

It took Mick a moment to recover from the awful blow. He checked his armour and was glad to see that there were no dents in the armour – that was the good thing about rune armour: it protected you from nearly any attack. He could feel several bruises beginning to surface though from the repeated blows. This battle was taking a heavy toll on his body and he could tell. If this battle wasn't over soon then he didn't know how much longer he would be bale to keep up this assault.

While Mick was still recovering the Moss giant charged again, delivering heavy sweeps with its two clubs. Mick blocked the blows as best as he could but one of the blows caught him on the arm and the momentum spun his body around. The impact of the blow caused him to drop his scimitar. 


	3. Conspiracy

Chapter 3 - Conspiracy

Mick wondered how much longer he could be able to keep this up. His fatigue was beginning to overtake him and he could tell that the Moss giant was only beginning to tap its reserves of strength. Furthermore, the two clubs that the giant had gave it an advantage that Mick wouldn't be able to match. His shield might provide protection – but it wouldn't shield him from every blow. He knew that he would not be able to win this battle. His defeat was inevitable but he would make the Moss giant work hard for its victory.

Deciding to surprise his opponent, Mick suddenly charged the Moss giant, focusing as much of his energy as he could into the attack. He picked up his scimitar as he ran past and slashed at the Moss giant's stomach. To his surprise, this time his rune blade merely bounced off its target and he was rewarded instead with another crushing blow from the Moss giant's club. The blow sent Mick staggering back into the wall where he slumped to the ground – dropping his scimitar in defeat. He was exhausted. His fatigue had over-taken him at last and the numerous injuries that he had sustained during the battle while not fatal had weakened him severely.

He gave one last glance towards his two companions and was glad to see that they still appeared to be at full strength and were combating the Moss giants. They were not winning but at least they were not losing the battle either. He felt a small smile creep up and attach itself to his face as the Moss giant raised its club for the killing blow. He could see the look of triumph in its eyes and something else… a red glint. He wondered exactly what that red glint was. Could it be the red wisp that was controlling him?

In a last desperate attempt, Mick picked up his scimitar again and took careful aim before launching it at the Moss giant's eyes. The giant was caught off-guard by this sudden movement and watched in horror as the rune blade headed straight for its eyes. It attempted to move its clubs to block the blow but the attack had been too fast. The scimitar cut right through the Moss giant's head, causing an explosion of green blood. The lumbering giant crashed to the ground with a shocked look on its face and spurting out green blood all over the place.

Mick breathed a sigh of relief as the Moss giant collapsed to the ground. He watched intently as the same red wisp that he had seen before disappeared into the air. He dusted himself off and walked over to where the last Moss giant had fallen. He quickly pulled out his scimitar and looked at the blue blade that was now bathed in green blood. Mick looked up to see how his two companions were doing. They were still fighting the Moss giants.

He began to head over towards his companions when he noticed that the hostages were still bound. Which should he do first? Free the hostages and complete the mission as quickly as possible or help his companions before freeing the hostages? He took a deep breath and walked over to the last two remaining Moss giants. His loyalty was to his friends first – he was not willing to leave them behind.

Glenn parried the Moss giant's terrible blow and lashed out with his scimitar, taking out a small chunk of the giant's club. He had been fighting this Moss giant for what seemed to be an eternity and no matter what he did he did not seem to be able to harm the Moss giant. No matter where he had struck the giant – legs, chest, arms or head he had been unable to make the giant sustain any injury. Fortunately however, he also had managed to remain unscathed. Out of the corner of his eye he had seen Mick fighting the Moss giants and how he had nearly fallen in battle. Somehow Mick had been able to dispose of three of the loathsome beasts already. He knew that Richard hadn't been having much luck either. But now he could see that Mick was heading over to help them – this battle would be over soon.

Mick couldn't help but resist grinning as he headed over to help Glenn. Now the tables were turned and the Moss giants were in fact the ones that were out-numbered. He raised his scimitar ready to strike and was surprised when his sword was met by a blue force-field that prevented him from lowering his scimitar any further. He pushed with all his might but the force-field stubbornly prevented him from attacking the giant. He growled his frustration as he sheathed his scimitar. It seemed that the gods of runescape had deemed this area as an area where creatures could only battle adventurers one at a time – which would explain why the extra two Moss giants had not acted when they should have. The holy magic of Saradomin bound them all and prevented them from doing so.

As he thought about the gods of runescape, something triggered inside Mick's head. If the magic of Saradomin was what had stopped him from attacking the Moss giant and had stopped him from attacking the Moss giant while Glenn was and had been blue then that would mean that Zamarok's colours would be the opposite which would mean that his favoured colour was red. Mick recalled the red glint that he had seen in the Moss giant's eyes and that was when he realized the truth. It was not just any ordinary wisp that was possessing the Moss giants but it was Zammarock himself! The different pieces of information that he had picked up before made sense now.

No other evil being but Zamarok would have been able to predict how the king and the palace guards would react once they discovered that giants had been rampaging through the city. It would also explain why the Moss giants were fighting so brilliantly and why they had been so difficult to kill – the magic of Zamarok had been surrounding them. As he was thinking this another realization struck Mick – the green bubbling liquid that he had seen before must have something to do with whatever Zamarok had planned for the realm of runescape. But the question was what did he have planned? The human hostages would also have something to do with it. The inscriptions on the wall that he had seen on his way here were demonic which could only mean one thing…the Moss giants had been planning on sacrificing the human hostages to Zamarok!

Mick's expression grew grim as he realized what a significant find that he had come across. This plot did not merely threaten the well-being of just the citizens of the town of Varrock but the whole realm of runescape. Now that he had discovered the plot there was something that Mick had to do to foil this plan – but he still had a task to complete. He unsheathed his scimitar as he walked over to the hostages. He could see them recoil in fear as he approached. He didn't blame then – he must have looked extremely fierce in his rune armour splattered with Moss giant blood.

"I am here to free you," explained Mick, beginning to cut the bonds of the first prisoner. "The Moss giants have fallen and you are now free to return to the town of Varrock."

"What about the zombies and other creatures that we passed on the way in?" asked one of the hostages.

"That won't be a problem," replied Mick. "My companions and I will see to it that you get out of this place alive."

"That's where you're wrong," said the hostages, all at once. Now that they had all been freed from their bonds they had a strange edge to their voice – one that gave Mick a very uneasy feeling. Mick slowly began to step back, making sure that his scimitar was firmly fitted in his hand. Something told him that the hostages would soon all turn hostile.

"You thought you saved us," groaned one of the hostages. "Instead you are our executioner." With that the hostages suddenly surged forward, fists raised and ready to attack. Mick looked helplessly at the onslaught of hostages that was running at him. He could now see the same red glint in their eyes that he had seen in the Moss giants. He felt a great sadness overwhelm him as the first hostage cam up to him and punched him and punched him in the chest. Mick didn't even feel the blow through his rune armour but retaliated with a vicious slash that be-headed the hostage and caused him to fall to the ground – his neck pumping out blood like a fountain.

By now the rest of the hostages had surrounded Mick in a circle – ready to attack. But it appeared as though they were waiting for something – but the question was what? Mick knew that he could kill all the hostages right here and now but he wanted to wait and see how things they developed. If there was one thing he had learnt about evil villains in his adventuring around the realm of runescape it was that they enjoyed gloating over their victims when they thought that they were assured of victory. This was usually their weakness and brought their downfall and Mick hoped that the same principle would apply here.

To Mick's astonishment an image of Zamarok himself appeared before him. Zamarok looked like a tall human that wore black armour – except that this armour had spikes protruding from it at random angles – giving him an intimidating look. The black two-handed sword that he rested on his shoulder had a red aura around it that pulsated with evil energy. In his other hand he held a red orb that appeared to be filled with a viscous green liquid.

"Well well Mick," laughed Zamarok. "It seems that you have stumbled across my little plan. Before you die – and I assure you that you will I just want you to know just how much of an impossible task it will be to stop me. You know you cannot kill me, but in order to stop me you will have to bind me. To this you will need to gather the three cornerstones of runescape – from the towns of Falador, Varrock, and Lumbridge and bring them to the field west of the Champion's guild. Once there you must defeat me in combat which no man or woman has ever accomplished before."

"I will defeat you," said Mick resolutely.

"Ah young adventuers," mused Zamarok. "So confident in the fullness of their youth. I grow tired of talking with you. Destroy him." Having said those words, the image of Zamarok disappeared and the hostages suddenly attacked. Mick didn't hesitate to attack this time – lashing out with his scimitar and killing all the hostages in a matter of seconds. The whole event had been a slaughterhouse. He knew that Zamarok would have known that a group of hostages would not be able to keep him down. There was an ulterior motive here. Then he remembered Zamarok's words You must defeat me in combat which no man or woman has ever accomplished. So that was Zamarok's plan. Zamarok planned to get Mick to summon him from his place in the underworld to the realm of runescape.

Once in runescape Zamarok would be free to unleash whatever horrors he had planned amongst the populations and nobody would be able to stop him short of Saradomin himself. And yet, Mick knew that if he didn't bring forth Zamarok from the underworld and defeat him then he knew that the realm of runescape would slowly tear itself apart. The presence of evil had been growing for some time and now that it was strong enough Zamarok even had the ability to possess groups of creatures at a time and force them to do his bidding. It would only be a matter of time before he would be able to control a whole town and force them to declare war on a neighbouring city. 


	4. Prepare for battle

Chapter 4 - Prepare for Battle

Mick turned to see how his team mates were doing. From the looks of things they were starting to find the weak points of the Moss giants. It seemed as though they were finally beginning to work out the giant's weak points. Mick smiled at this but his face quickly dimmed as he glanced at the surrounding dead bodies of the people that he was supposed to rescue. It would be sad and tragic news that he would be delivering back to the King of Varrock instead of happy news. How would he explain this to the king? The evil god of runescape was preparing to take over the world and in the process he had forced Mick to kill the citizens of Varrock that he was supposed to save? It would seem as though he had failed in his mission and was making up an excuse to make himself look good.

Richard and Glenn finally finished off their Moss giants and made their way over to Mick. He could see the astonishment on their faces as their faces as they saw the dead bodies of all the villagers standing in a circle around Mick and then turning their gaze towards his bloody scimitar. Warily they kept their weapons ready and looked at Mick, expecting him to explain himself.

"The Moss giants and hostages were just pawns," sighed Mick. "Zamarok himself has been possessing people and forcing them to do his will. If we do not stop him soon eventually he will spread his influence into the major cities and force them to wage war on each other."

"Why would Zamarok want to destroy a realm that he could rule?" asked Richard curiously. "Every evil villain that I have met so far has always had the desire to reign over their victims. Surely Zamorkc who is the very essence of evil would be following this pattern as well."

"All I know is that he must be stopped," replied Mick. "We must gather the three cornerstones from the cities of Varrock, Falador and Lumbridge and then take them to the field west of the champion's guild. Once there we must defeat Zamarok in battle and banish him back to the underworld."

"Sounds simple enough," commented Glenn, sheathing his scimitar. "The three of us together…we can do this."

"Let's get going," concurred Richard, sheathing his own scimitar. "If it is indeed Zamarok behind all this we will not have much time."

As Mick finished explaining his story to the king of Varrock he felt an uneasy feeling wash over him. Would the king believe his story or would the king think that he had made up a story to hide his failure. He was glad that he was wearing his helmet, otherwise the king would be able to see the uneasiness on his face. The story in itself was not one that was easily believable – it was one that claimed that the entire realm of runescape was in fact in danger.

"I was afraid of this," sighed the king. "I had been hoping that this day would not ever come during my time but it has. The ruler of each city has the cornerstone that you seek. I myself have one. For a long time I have been suspecting that Zamarok has been possessing creatures to do his bidding but you have confirmed it. The fact that he has revealed himself to you and told you how to stop him means that he is very confident of victory. You will need some better weapons to help you."

"We already have the best weapons that anyone could provide us with your grace," said Mick, hoping that he hadn't offended the king. "What could possibly be more powerful than rune weapons?"

"I know of a prayer that will charge your weapons with unimaginable power for a short time," explained the king. "But in order to defeat Zamarok you will have to make sure that you pray to Saradomin – it will be impossible to defeat him without doing so. Unfortunately other than this blessing there is no other help I can offer you." 

"We accept your help with thanks," replied Mick, bowing gracefully. "We will take the cornerstone and be on our way." The king nodded and closed his eyes for a moment, lifting his arms up to the heavens for a few moments. Mick felt the blade of his scimitar growing hot and unsheathed his scimitar. To his surprise the blade was glowing an intense blue and felt extremely hot. After a few moments the glow disappeared but he could feel the blade humming with energy.

The king opened his eyes and produced a small stone block from his pocket, handing it to Mick. Mick took it and gingerly placed it in his backpack, hoping that it wasn't fragile. Now that their job here was done, it was time to head to the town of Falador.

"The White knights of Falador will be glad to pledge their services to you for the battle against evil," said Sir Amik Varze. He produced a small stone block and handed it to Mick. "We will be waiting for you at the field next to the Champion's guild. Until then keep safe." Mick nodded his thanks and walked out of the room, Richard and Glenn at his heel. They had been doing well so far and nothing had hindered their progress.

During their travels they had come across very few obstacles. There had been random creatures here and there that had tried to stop them from achieving their goals – which was something that concerned Mick and the others. If Zamarok knew what they were doing then why did he not try to stop them? The king of Varrock had said that Zamarok was confident of victory – which meant that he wanted to be brought back. Would Saradomin be willing to step in and help them or would they be forced to fight the fearsome might of Zamarok in their own strength?

"Here is the last cornerstone," said the Duke, handing a small stone block to Mick. "I cannot offer you the aid of any warriors or weapons to aid you but I can tell you this: Zamarok will take more than one incarnation – be wary. He will also make use of spells to stun and attack you so here…take these potions. They will protect you from concentrated evil magics."

"We accept your gift with thanks," replied Mick, putting the stone block in his backpack and taking note of the advice. "Pray that we will be successful in our mission." With a sigh Mick. Glenn and Richard began their final trek towards the Champion's guild. This could well end up being their last few hours of living of Zamarok had his way. If they failed in their mission…the rest of the realm would be doomed.

"Why do we not rally the other adventurers in the realm?" asked Glenn. "Surely we cannot be expected to defeat Zamarok by ourselves. He is evil incarnate!"

"I would rather not unnecessarily endanger the lives of other," explained Mick. "Besides, most of the adventurers that listened to us would be too weak to do a thing."

"But you accepted the help of the white knights!" protested Richard. "Is that not the same thing?"

"The white knights have pledged their lives to fight evil," replied Mick. "They pledge their whole lives to this cause – they live for no other purpose. Without this purpose their lives are merely wasted away training."

"Enough talk for now," concluded Glenn. "It does us no good to argue amongst ourselves when there is an enemy out there that endangers us all. If these are to be our last hours together let us enjoy them to the fullest." Glenn and Mick nodded in agreement and they began talking about the good times that they had experienced during their adventures. 


	5. Battle

Chapter 5 - Battle

Mick had a great sense of foreboding as he placed all three of the cornerstones together in a triangle. The final battle to save the realm of runescape would soon begin and if they fell in battle…there would be nobody left to save them. They had already enlisted all the help that they could. Despite not wanting to involve other adventurers word had spread and now there was a group of at least fifteen other adventurers all wearing rune armour and wielding an assortment of runite weapons. Would these adventurers be able to make it out of the situation? He felt largely responsible for their fate and hoped that they would all come out of the battle safe.

"Begin the summoning," said Mick, turning to Glenn. Glenn solemnly nodded and walked over to the three cornerstones. He touched all three of them and brought all of them together and watched in fascination as they suddenly shot a beam of red energy into the ground that blasted through the earth and reached into the very core of the earth, causing everyone to take a step back in caution.

The beam began to grow wider and wider until it was several metres in circumference. The beam lasted for a few more moments before suddenly disappearing, but the evidence was still there: a large gaping hole in the middle of the ground. Mick began to step towards it but Glenn held him back.

A knight in black spiked armour and holding a wicked-looking two-handed sword suddenly jumped out of the ground, two greater demons flanking him on both sides. Mick suddenly unsheathed his scimitar and took a step forward. This was the time that he had been waiting for – now was the time. He stopped and thought for a moment. Something seemed out of place. He sheathed his scimitar and took a step back. Zamarok wouldn't have appear to such a large group of people who wanted to kill him flanked only by two greater demons.

"You are fools," laughed Zamarok, signalling behind his back. The white knights and adventurers unsheathed their weapons and took a step back, falling into a defensive position to defend themselves from the new threat. In the instant that Zamarok had signalled they had been surrounded by legions of black knights and numerous demons.

It all made sense to Mick now. Zamarok had not worried about trying to stop them from summoning them because he knew that while they were preparing to summon him he had the itme to muster his forces for an all-out assault to crush any resistance that might make try and stop him from his world domination. He unsheathed his scimitar and stepped forward to face Zamarok. Glenn and Richard flanked him on both sides – heading to engage the two greater demons that were protecting Zamarok. They couldn't expect any help frolm any of their allies – the adventurers and white knights were all occupied fighting the black knights and the other demons that had appeared.

Zamorak attacked first – lashing out with his massive two-handed sword. Mick raised his shield and rolled aside, watching in fascination as the blade tore up the earth where it struck, sending a wave of dirt shooting forward. Mick followed the wave of dirt and watched as it cut through a line of white knights, knocking them off their feet and putting them at the mercy of their enemies. But while he had been following the wave of dirt his attention had been drawn away from the battle

Mick turned to face Zamorak, knowing that the distraction had cost him. He turned around just in time to see the blade heading directly for his head. Mick nimbly ducked underneath the blow and suddenly shoulder-charged forward, barrelling right into Zamorak and sending him reeling back. Mick pushed his advantage, leaping after the staggering god of evil and swinging his scimitar viciously – aiming directly at the evil being's heart.

Zamorak brought his blade up in time to block the blow and a smirk crept across his face as they entered a contest of wills as their blades locked. He could feel the fierce energy pulsing behind his opponent – yes this was an adventurer full of spirit. There was nothing more Zamorak enjoyed than destroying the hope of spirited-adventurers. In the fullness of their youth they believed that they could conquer anything after they had finished a few rag-tag missions.

He had broken the spirit of many different adventurers but he could feel something about this one – yes the favour of Saradomin was truly upon him: something that was becoming increasingly rarer these days. Most adventurers now spent their time seeking glory for themselves, forgetting about the needs of other and instead turning on each other in the wilderness – a place which he alone controlled.

Mick felt a white-hot rage enter him as he saw Zamorak smirk. Here they were in a battle and the evil god still had time to smirk which told Mick something: he was not fighting hard enough. He decided tat their blades had remained locked for long enough. He suddenly took a step forward, leaning towards Zamorak with all his weight, breaking the lock and forcing him back several metres.

Zamorak was pleased to find that things were going exactly the way that he had planned. His opponent Mick may have thought that he had an advantage but he had did not fully contemplate the power of the being that he was going up against. Zamorak charged again, this time charging his blade with a red glowing energy that pulsated around the blade like an aura.

Mick was surprised by the sudden burst of energy on Zamorak's blade – but then he looked at his own sword and remembered the blessing that King Roald had bestowed upon his sword. Confident, he met Zamorak's charge with his own and as the two blades met in mid-air shockwaves burst forth – sending any nearby creatures – good or evil flying into the air. Zamorak and Mick themselves were unharmed by he shockwaves – much to Mick's astonishment. Both of them seemed fine until a few moments later they boss dropped to their knees, dropping their weapons.

"You are….indeed…a worthy opponent," gasped Zamorak as he fell to his knees. "I under-estimated you. But be assured…I will not be making that mistake again."

"It will be your last one," replied Mick, breathing heavily. The blast from the two weapons clashing had drained him of all his energy. It was as though the attack had drained the life force of both him and Zamorak and had refined it into a pulse blast that was then emitted. His arms and legs felt limp – as though he was paralysed. Fortunately for him it seemed to be the same for Zamorak as well.

Mick summoned as much energy as he could and stretched out his had towards his scimitar. Now that hey were in a vulnerable position he would be able to deliver a killing blow. Zamorak would have a much harder time considering his two-handed sword was much larger and heavier. He felt a tinge of excitement as his fingers touched the handle of his scimitar. Only a bit further and he would have his scimitar in his hand.

As his fingers curled around the handle of the scimitar he felt a blast of fiery energy hit him in the chest. The blast was conducted by the rune armour and spread throughout his entire body – filling his entire being with searing pain. He tightened his grip on his scimitar but was pushed onto his back from the force of the blow. The fiery energy continued to flow into him for a few moments. Just when he could feel himself beginning to black-out from the pain he felt the energy flow stop.

Mick groaned and tried to look around to see what was happening. When he tried to get up he felt his entire body twinge with pain. The fiery energy had left its mark – he could feel that his flesh was charred underneath his armour. It would be a wonder if was even able to fight again. As these thoughts ran trough his head he saw a figure looming above him. In his half-conscious state he could barely make out the words that they were saying but the red glow of the sword gave away who it was – Zamorak.

"You forgot about my magic," sneered Zamorak, gloating above his charred victim. "I will let you make one last request before I kill you." Mick groaned and reached into his pouch for the potion that the Duke of Lumbridge had given him. He removed the cap and poured a few drops of the precious liquid into his mouth. He wasn't sure if the potion would reverse the effects of the magic or whether they would just protect him from any further attacks.

After tasting a few drops Mick decided to drink the rest of the potion – skulling down the rest of the liquid. With the vial empty he tossed it aside – ignoring the sound of it smashing against a knight's armour. He could feel his flesh beginning to knit itself back together and the burns were beginning to disappear. He flexed his fingers and was surprised to find that he had his normal dexterity back. He sill had his rune scimitar in his grip.

"Prepare to die," gloated Zamorak, raising his two-handed sword for the death blow. Grinning, he brought his massive sword down in a killing blow. Mick rolled to the side and jumped up, running behind Zamorak and holding his scimitar to his throat.

"Call off your minions….now," demanded Mick, pressing his scimitar firmly against Zammorak's throat. "Or I will kill you here and now."

"You may be able to kill me," sneered Zamorak. "But even if my physical body dies my minions will continue to fight onwards to avenge the death of their master." Mick growled and sliced Zamorak's throat, letting go of him as he fell to the ground clutching his neck.

"You have made…..a terrible mistake," coughed Zamorak as he fell to the ground. "You should have heeded…the warnings." Mick watched grimly as Zamorak breathed his last breath and died. The evil god was dead at last. Mick breathed a sigh of relief as he saw a cloud of red mist burst forth from the body and dissipate into the air.

All heads on the battlefield suddenly turned to face Mick - staring in shock as he stood over the dead body of Zamorak. For a few moments everyone was too stunned to move but then the fighting resumed – even fiercer and wilder than before. 


	6. End Game

Chapter 6 - End Game

Mick lowered his head in despair as the fighting continued to escalate around him. He thought that the death of Zamarock would have ended the fighting. It turned out that the lord of evil had been correct after all when he had said that his death would not be the end of the fighting. Unless...Zamarock had not really been killed. The Duke of Lumbridge had warned him that Zamarock would take many forms - and yet he hadn't seen any sign of any of Zamrock's other forms.

He shook his head and rushed towards the nearest enemy - thinking would do no good at the moment: there was still a battle to be won. His scimitar was a blurr as he hacked apart enemy after enemy. He lost himself in the battle: surrendering to the bloodlust that had been threatening to overtake him the entire time. It was only a matter of hours before the battle was over - the white knights and adventurers finally prevailing after a long, hard-fought battle.

Seeing that the last of their enemies had been defeated, Mick wiped his scimitar clean on the grass and sheathed it - glad that the horrible ordeal was over. He looked over to make sure that Glenn and Richard were alright. He was glad when he saw that they were alright. Their armour was a little battered from the repeated blows that they had sustained during the battle. He immediately headed over towards them, unable to resist letting a smile show on his face.

"Looks like we did it," said Glenn, smiling as he sheathed his rune scimitar. "I didn't think that we'd be able to get it done that quickly but it looks like I was wrong."

"It was indeed a lot simpler than I thought it would be," Richard confirmed. "But I don't think that this is over quite just yet."

"It isn't over just yet," agreed Mick. "I don't know exactly what happened to Zamarock but I certainly know that he isn't dead just yet. This whole ordeal won't be over until he's dead." He turned his gaze towards the city of Varrock and his jaw dropped when he saw that the city of Varrock was in flames! He quickly unsheathed his scimitar and began running towards the city, gripping his scimitar tightly and making sure that his shield was strapped firmly to his arm. He couldn't afford to lose any of his equipment at a critical moment like this.

Glenn and Richard followed Mick's lead, with the rest of the adventurers and the white knights trailing behind them, anger filling their every feature as they saw what Zamarock had done to their beloeved city. It was enough to drive any patron to the point of madness - enciting an unimaginable anger towards whoever it was that caused this havoc. Even though the walls were made of stone they were still burning with bright red flames which could only mean one thing: the fires were the result of some sort of twisted magic.

When Mick entered the city he nearly dropped his scimitar in astonishment. The fountain in the centre of the city wa sno longer spewing out crystal-clear water but was instead spewing out the same viscous green liquid that he had seen down in the sewers. He knew that the substance was largely responsible for turning the hostages that the Moss gaints had taken into zombies. Hopefully the substance hadn't been able to extend its influence as far as the rest of the city yet otherwise he and his allies would have a very pain-staking task ahead of them: to kill all the citizens of Varrock that had turned into zombies.

He slowed his run down to a walk as he approached the fountain. He was glad to see that the castle guards had closed the main gates, blocking the one and only entrance towards the castle. Mick came to a stop as he reached the fountain, fingering his scimitar lightly, ready for action. The area was too quiet - the entire situation didn't seem right. If the city was on fire then logically the citizens would be panicking and the first place where they would logically turn for refuge is the castle. As these thoughts were running through his head Glenn and Richard caught up to him. He could tell they were just as puzzled as he was by the expressions on their faces and the way they lowered their shields and scimitars.

"Raise your shields! It's an ambush!" yelled Mick just as an arrow pierced the air and bounced off his armour. He looked down at the arrow. It had an adamant head, which could only mean that there were expert archers placed around the place. "Form a circle and raise your shields!" The white knights and adventurers that had rushed in reacted quickly, raising their shields and forming a circle just as Mick had instructed. They had completed the maneouvre just in time. As soon as they had finished forming the circle a hail or arrows suddenly shot towards them from the direction of the town entrance.

Mick was filled with anticipation as he heard arrow after arrow bounce off his runite kite shield. How much longer would this rain of arrows last? Since his attackers had been able to sustain their attack for so long he suspected that they had raided the arrow shop. There was after all, no other source of arrows in the entire kingdom of Asgardia - unless they had been able to fletch their own which nobody knew how to do save the owner of the arrow shop. When he felt the rain of arrows finally stop he lowered his shield and looked around - waiting for their attackers to show themselves.

It was only a matter of seconds before their attackers revealed themselves - surging forward from all directions in overwhelming numbers. There were all sorts of vile creatures all around them - ghouls, ghosts, zombies, werewolves, and other mutated monstrosities that Mick couldn't give a name to. "Break the circle!" Mick quickly stepped out of the circle and moved to engage the nearest creature, slashing with his scimitar. He ran up to the nearest zombie, slicing with his scimitar and decaptitating it in one slice before turning around and be-heading another zombie that had tried to creep up behind him.

Mick kept his attacks fluid and simple, moving from one attack right into the next one. Everything was a blurr around him as he surrendered himself to the bloodlust of the battle once again. It was moments like this that he lived for - when the adrenaline was pumping through his veins and every move he made was made with confidence and power. If he could keep himself in this state forever he would - it was a warrior's state of bliss. He was vaguely aware of his allies fighting around him - all surrendering themselves to the battle and worrying about nothing else. Bearing that thought in mind he suddenly stopped himself and ducked to avoid the axe of a nearby zombie before charging forward with his shield: barrelling straight into it and sending it flying backwards into ihis other attackers.

Now that he had a few seconds Mick thought about the situation. It didn't seem correct that Zamarock would just wish to overhwlem him and his allies with just sheer brute force - he had to have somethign else up his sleeve and furthermore he had to be somewhere on the battlefield. Zamarock might hnot have been foolish but if there was noe thing that Mick understood about him it was that he also enjoyed being in battle. Mick took a step back and looked for anything that could resemble Zamarock. While he was busy speculating he suddenly felt a mysterious force hit him from behind and knock him over.

He groaned and rolled over. The force that had knocked him over had packed more of a punch than he had realized. He felt winded. He looked up to see who his assailant was and was surprised to find what looked like another adventurer in red armour standing over him. The scimitar that they were holding was also red and had a black handle. The blade itself had a few ragged edges but he could tell by the look of the weapons and armour that they were a very formidable set of equipment. The helmet had two white horns on it and the shield had a picture of a red dragon painted on it.

"You really thought that you could kill me, the mighty Zamarock?" laughed the figure, twirling his scimitar around idly. Mick sucked in his breath as he saw Glenn come up Behind Zamarock and swing his scimitar with all his might. Zamarock just stood there and let his armour absorb the blow. Mick watched in astonishment as the rune blade shattered into a thousand pieces as it impacted with the mysterious red armour. The shards bounched harmlessly of Zamarock, but the shards that flew back towards Glenn penertrated his armour and cut him, sending him staggering backwards before he finally fell over, his hand still clutching tightly the remains of his rune scimitar.

"NO!" cried Mick, suddenly jumping up and charging towards Zamarock. Zamarock turned to face Mick, a smirk on his face as he drew back his red scimitar ready to attack Mick. Mick raised his own scimitar and as the two blades clashed he watched in horror as his rune scimitar was cut in half. Furious, Mick threw away the useless remains of his scimitar and prepared for the worst.

"So this is how it ends," smirked Zamarock. "In the centre of the very city that you were trying to save. And the worst part is that you don't even know what happened to all the citizens." Zamarock waved his hand and suddenly the castle gate opened. Mick watched in dismay as he saw a fresh wave of zombies suddenly advance on what was left of his team of attackers.

Grant me strength Saradomin, thought Mick as Zamarock drew his scimitar back for the killing blow. Nothing that he currenlty possessed had the power to block the force of such a terrible weapon. The red weapons and armour were unlike anything that he had ever come across before. He replaced his thoughts with a quick prayer as he prepared to face the blow. Grant me strength.

As Zamarock began swinging his scimitar forward Mick felt time slow around him. He looked up towards the heavens and felt a bolt of lightning hit him, energizing him and filling him with strength. A cursory glance at his armour showed that it now had a white trim around it and on his breastplate was a white star - the symbol of Saradomin. Grinning, he ducked under Zamarock's blow and lashed out with a punch, hitting the surprised Zamarock right in the face: the only part where his armour didn't protect him. While Zamarock was still shocked he quickly snatched his scimitar out of his hands and slashed, decapitating the evil god in a single blow.

Mick watched in wonder as Zamarock's body disappeared and all that was left of the evil god's body was his armour. He tensed as the same familiar red wisp dissipated into the air, the same as what had happened the first time he had killed him. Curious, Mick stepped forward and slashed at the red wisp, watching in fascination as it suddenly disappeared. He quickly looked over at the fountain and was surprised to find that the fountain colour had returned to normal and that the zombies, ghouls, ghosts and werewolves were no longer attacking. They were instead standing still as though they were in a trance.

Within moments the creatures had returned to their normal state - citizens of Varrock that had no idea what had just happened to them. They all had puzzled looks on their faces as they took in the area around them - they were surrounded by white knights and adventurers and there were dead bodies littered all over the area. Mick knew that there was a lot of explaining to do but at least they had finally managed to defeat the threat that had been plaguing them. But at what cost? He sheathed his new scimitar and walked over towards Glenn's body. He fell to his knees in front of Glenn's body and he felt tears beginning to form in his eyes.

The price for victory had been heavy. He looked all around him and he could see numerous bodies of white knights and adventurers all over the place. They had finally overthrown the evil god Zamarock but in doing so they had lost the lives of many brave knights and adventurers. He had managed to form a bond with Glenn and Richard in the short amount of time that they had adventured together and he felt largely responsible for Glenns' death. After all, if he had acted sooner than perhaps Glenn would still be alive and he would be the one dead. He would have much preferred that than seeing his friend die.

"There was nothing you could do," said Richard as he came up behind Mick and rested a hand on his shoulder. "His sacrifice and the sacrifice of others will not be forgotten. We will build a memorial for them so that nobody will ever forget this tragedy and the sacrifices that had to be made to rectify it." Mick nodded and slowly rose from where he had been kneeling and prayed a silent prayer for Glenn's soul.

"What is going on here?" demanded King Roald.

"Your majesty," said Mick, turning around and bowing slightly. "We have a lot of explaining to do."

"And so to commend the bravery of you and the others that assisted you I bestow upon you all the status of Hero and present you with the medal of valor that is greatly prized among our people," declared King Roald. "I will also honour your request to build a memorial for those who were lost in this horrible ordeal."

"Thank you your majesty," said Mick, bowing humbly. "Should you ever need our help again you can summon us and we will come to your aid."

"I have a special title to give to you Mick," said King Roald. "I hereby dub you a Knight of Saradomin, the first of many if all goes well. Will you be willing to train others to assist Varrock in its time of need?"

"That is something that I will leave up to Saradomin," replied Mick. "I am a simple adventurer." With that, Mick got up and walked out of the castle, not even bothering to look back. He was back to where he had started before this entire ordeal had started. Alone. Adventuring. Wandering. Just the way he liked it. 


End file.
